The Body of dust

Imgormiel

Part of the furniture
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Apr 18, 2004
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The Body of Dust



As the tap drips drops of water, landing into a half filled plate. Where the dishes lay strewn in the sink. You are sitting on the edge of the bed – staring into space. Smelling the stench of death from below. The room smells of smoke. Not from the exhalation of the cigarette you are smoking. It is from fire where the man died. The flames and burning from below. Time seeps still into your room, long after it happened. The sound of cellos, remain the only constant.



The tap persists with drips. Reminding you. Reminding you of the memories past, triggered by the smell of flame and fire from your heart. It, still burns in your mind, your soul and your breath. The wrongs you suffered. The misunderstanding and others weakness to lash out at you because they felt so insecure. Yet you suffered in silence. Suffering more and more things. Never speaking about it. The smoke you exhaled from your mouth, from the cigarettes you were killing yourself with said enough.



And one day. As the tap dripped your blood down the drain. You were asked to do the impossible. You did that too. The past and the present became one again. The dream appears and although she is long past from us. Her silhouette appears by your darkened window. She is as beautiful as the day she left you. The eyes of your head widen as you stand up and walk to her. She asks you to hold her around the waist. Telling you stories of things done while you were away from her. How she feels about you. You miss her so much - wishing that you had never parted. You hold on a bit tighter and she smiles as you breathe upon her neck. The words I love you pour from your mouth, and suddenly from nothing, she fragments into a body of dust. Gone like the memory of a broken mirror strewn into shards.



Your clothes smell of fire once more as the memory of her faded shape eludes your grasp. You didn’t get the chance to say heal my heart of hurt or let me run and leave. Somehow, you knew she already understood that. The heart inside your rib cage beats to a lost tune as the cellos persist. Your head is everywhere and nowhere as words mouth from your lips to an empty room. You sit back down on the bed and light up another cigarette as the tap of disarray drips drops of silence. As the smell of burning is now...gone.
 

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